


Since 1173 (I’m lucky, unlucky to be yours)

by drunkenshrimp (svnwritten)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, M/M, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reincarnation, Violence, centuries of relationship-building, character death but this is reincarnation au so you know... they come back to live just fine, traumatized characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svnwritten/pseuds/drunkenshrimp
Summary: Have you ever hated someone so much that for centuries your soul plotted finishing them off? Baekhyun certainly did. Or at least that's what he was taught and meant to do.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50
Collections: Swords and Hearts 2020





	Since 1173 (I’m lucky, unlucky to be yours)

**Author's Note:**

> CODE: SAH141  
> Prompt: In every reincarnation, they would almost always try to kill each other but in the last reincarnation, one of them actually dies by the hand of the other, and as he watched his enemy breathe his last breath regret stirs inside him and he wished they weren't enemies in the place. The next reincarnation, everything changed.  
> Lovers: Some angst pls  
> Enemies: -
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction and none of the characters are owned by Swords and Hearts. All creative rights and ownership of this particular work of fiction lie with the respective authors. 
> 
> Author's Note:  
> It's a story about the mistakes of our past selves.  
> Remember that sometimes it's not your mistakes that matter, it's the redemption we work on that matters the most.
> 
> (it's been a while since I wrote something so angsty and heart-breaking. this fic is a ride but the ending is worth it (I hope))
> 
> PS words can't explain how many times I wanted to give up on this story, it's only thanks to my wonderful friends that this fic is here

━━━━━━━ (1173) ━━━━━━━

The loud noise bounced off the thick walls of the great hall. Four sacred drummers moved in perfect synchronization, giving the energy and tension filling the room, a brand new shape. Forming them into tools and weapons. The sound of drums made lights dancing on the walls flickers and waver. The heat coming from the fire, along with sound, was pouring into the ears to drown and dissolve in red, burning blood.

Baekhyun swallowed the thick saliva gathering in his mouth. It tasted like acid and dirt and a little bit of nervousness too. The grip on the dagger tightened. Despite being covered with soft leather, the handle was slowly digging into the soft flesh on Baekhyun’s palm. Every inch of his body was itching, but he wouldn’t dare to move now. He trained for years to stand in front of the head priestess. 

It was the moment that was supposed to redefine the sense and meaning of his life. This life and all of his future incarnations.

The sounds of drums vibrated through Baekhyun’s skin and bones, slowly drilling deep down his skull. The pain at the back of his head was growing bigger every moment, but Baekhyun knew that it’s just a part of the initiation. Nothing to be anxious about. 

The frantic murmurs around him were making his skin crawl. Each syllable and each sound was imprinting on his skin, crawling higher and higher, until they wandered high enough to tickle and tighten around his neck, making it hard to breathe. Making it hard to think.

A few drops of warm liquid fell on Baekhyun’s face, mixing with the wet paint.

When the blade touched his neck, his breath hitched and he knew that the initiation was slowly coming to an end. He could feel the sharp tip of the sword slitting his skin and drawing blood. Not deep enough to kill but deep enough to burn. Baekhyun’s throat was tight with the scream trapped inside. The fear for his life, though irrational and childish, was slowly devouring the oxygen left in his lungs, until there was nothing but darkness inside him. 

Then, and only then, when Baekhyun could feel his head spin and his consciousness falling apart, did the priestess say:

“Open your eyes and offer the name of your soul.” her voice should be calming but it stung like a needle. Sharp but dirty with all the blood that was slipped.

Baekhyun’s eyes fluttered open heavily. 

The lights were dimmed and half of the hearths were burned out. He must have been trans for long hours without realizing.

“Offer the name of your soul,” repeated the priestess, her face hidden behind the mask in the colour of midnight’s sky enwrapped with flames.

“Baekhyun.”

The priestess hummed with satisfaction, as if she recognized it. As if Baekhyun hadn’t found this name by himself at the bottom of the ocean. When he was freezing and where the air was nothing but a myth. He fought for his name with countless creatures and with thousands of evil spirits.

“Baekhyun.” repeated the priestess and the bells around her neck rang loudly. The blood was still dripping down her neck, colouring her shirt with the colour of Baekhyun’s future. 

She raised her hands. It symbolized the open sky and freedom, but Baekhyun felt nothing of such. He was suffocating with anticipation that was being pumped into his head ever since he was a baby. 

“I saw your name in the star and I saw the name of the one meant for your soul.” the priestess declared loudly and the drummers picked on their melody again. “They are yours as you are theirs, and nothing will tear you apart. Bound to hate each other forever.”

Layers and layers of the priestess’ dress rustled as he leaned to take the bowl standing between her and Baekhyun. His veins ignited with the pure fire and desire to look down. To see their face on the surface. To read their name from the magic filling the boiling liquid. 

“Baekhyun,” the priestess murmured, “Are you ready to see the face of your immortal enemy, to learn their name and to hear the cry of their soul for the first time?”

“I am.” _his dream would come true at last._

“See them then.”

Baekhyun’s eyes dropped down, to the basin filled with blood and shimmering magic. The tip of his dagger touched the surface and, with a swift, well-memorized movement, he cut through the liquid, like would cut through flesh.

The face that was staring at him from the basin, looked nothing like he expected it to look. 

_He_ was all sharp cheekbones and curled-up lips and dark hair and dark, dark eyes that looked everywhere but at Baekhyun. _Infuriating._ Baekhyun ground his teeth and growled at the face in the basin. The smile widened, even though he couldn’t see Baekhyun.

“Jongdae.” Baekhyun’s voice was flat but a pang of pain shot through his body.

Jongdae’s head snapped to the side and for a split of a moment - Baekhyun could have sworn that - it felt like Jongdae could actually see him.

The basin fell on the ground, breaking into hundreds of pieces. The lukewarm blood splashed against Baekhyun’s feet.

“Your souls are now bound together,” the priestess's voice was muffled, “And you will remain so until the blood will be properly spilt.” 

Baekhyun blinked at the bloody stain at his feet, trying to find the pieces of his enemy in it. Trying to put together a face from dozens of broken pieces. 

He closed his eyes again.

Turned out that Jongdae’s face was the only thing he could see.

━━━━━━━

All his life Baekhyun was trained to believe in one truth - he would only sit among his ancestors in heavens, only if he proved the bravery of his soul. 

By his mother, Baekhyun was taught two things: how to handle his blade and how to interpret the history and the beliefs of their tribe. The first one came hard: with hectoliters of sweat and blood. He still carried the map of scars of cuts on his body as the proof of it. The second one: he treasured in his heart and breathed through his nose.

Tradition was everywhere he looked: in the paintings on his skin, in the engravings on the basins he used, in the decorations on his weapons. The history, mixing with legends and myths and faith was everywhere within his earshot: in the songs sung by the girls near the rivers, in the whispers of the wind slipping across the field, in the sound of birds deep down in the forest.

Every sight, every sound and every word told the same story that Baekhyun learnt when he was still in the crib:

In the beginning, each soul was complete: a perfect balance of morals and strength. Each soul shined bright in the sky, enjoying the life of the immortal. Souls didn’t meddle with humans: creatures of flesh and blood and dirt with so much sin within them. Humans were… fragile and mortal and, through that, evil and vicious.

Poor souls in the bright sky didn’t remember that long, long time ago they were also human. And they didn’t remember that deep, deep down they also carried the moral, the evil shed. A piece so small and dark that it was easily pushed aside and left forgotten.

Until it wasn’t. 

The mortality within the souls started growing darker, heavier and more dangerous. The mortality spread across souls like a disease - and it was the same, destructive. 

Eventually, the most infected souls were pushed down, they fell from the deep blue sky to crumble at the earth. To break in half into two pieces: the infected and the pure one. And the only way for the soul to sit at its rightful place in heaven was to kill the other piece of the soul.

Baekhyun’s eyes scanned the forest at the other side of the river wary of every movement and every sound. His senses were as sharp as the blade in his hand and as deadly as the heat in his eyes. 

He had to be alert every second of his life because there was nothing he feared more than his soul’s piece, named Jongdae, coming after him first.

By his father, Baekhyun learned only one thing: patience. 

Not many of Baekhyun’s tribe found their faulty piece of soul over one lifetime. That’s why they needed the ritual that would bind two pieces together - blessing them to seek for each other forever until their souls mend together in a dance and one of them overpowers the other.

A lone, wild goose cried in the distance. Baekhyun tightened the grip around his spear. He would wait. He would wait as many lifetimes as he had to, to steal what was taken from him - a piece of his soul in Jongdae’s form.

━━━━━━━(1180)━━━━━━━

The sky was dark and only a thin slice of moon lightened up Baekhyun’s way. Black night, dark night, night meant for magic and murder and being reborn maybe too. 

Baekhyun felt tired and worn-out. He should be vigilant and deadly but he couldn't bring himself, couldn’t push his body to be a warrior to admire today. He’s just too tired. Of this night, of the trail of burning bridges behind him, of this life maybe too.

He should be as deadly as a viper and vigilant like a wolf. So why was it so hard for him to stay focused?

The ugly wound below his collarbone tickled at the edges and burned in the middle. It’s a deserved wound - Baekhyun accepted it - that’s what got for his blade in the fire-whisperer. Usually, he avoided killing creatures filled with magic, but this time he had to. He had to buy Chanyeol enough time to kill the soul that wronged his own. Chanyeol would do the same for Baekhyun and maybe he will in the next time, when both of them get to be reborn. 

Because right now, Chanyeol's body was lying buried in a grave that Baekhyun dug out for him, once it turned out that his wounds had been much more dangerous than Baekhyun’s.

Baekhyun’s footsteps are silent, just like the tears he shed last evening. Priests learnt him not to mourn after his friends because they would meet again - either in this world or in the sky - but Baekhyun couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. 

And maybe because of that - because of the mourning - or maybe simply because Baekhyun was so tired and the wound was stinging him so badly - or maybe because fate wanted that to happen, Baekhyun wasn’t hateful that night.

The wound was burning and he knew that the stream was just a few meters away and going there didn’t seem like a bad decision. He stepped out of the forest just for a moment. He left the safety of the green, dark forest to put his mind at ease and rest but instead, he welcomed war into his heart once again. 

There was a person crouching at the opposite side of the stream - the man. Clearly taking a moment to rest just like Baekhyun intended. Leafs rustled around Baekhyun - little traitors - and the man raised his head and Baekhyun’s whole being ceased to this moment.

He would recognize this face everywhere.

Silver moonlight hid half of Jongdae’s features in the shadows (where he belonged, where he should have stayed if he cherished his life), but it was impossible for Baekhyun not to recognize him. He saw this face, every time he closed his eyes. How could he not recognize him if his face was like a poison to Baekhyun’s mind?

Baekhyun took a step forward and Jongdae raised on his feet. His lips were slowly twisting into something ugly - fear mixed with disgust. The blood in Baekhyun’s veins was slowly coming to boil.

He raised his hand, letting the blade shine under the moonlight. The white moon drops dripped down its edge and fell into the stream. The water rushed down the hill and Baekhyun found himself frozen because Jongdae wasn’t moving either.

They were just… staring at each other.

Nothing like when Chanyeol saw the enemy of his blood. Nothing like the prophecies ensured - neither Jongdae nor Baekhyun jumped forward to bite, or burn, or cut. Neither of them moved to harm and kill.

“It’s too early,” Baekhyun whispered into the scenery in front of him. Not to Jongdae. Certainly not to his mortal enemy. His eyesight was growing blurry. “I-I can’t-”

The wound above Baekhyun’s heart throbbed and his knees broke under his weight. He rapidly tried to blink the unconsciousness away but even his strong will was nothing against the overpowering tiredness, pain and confusion. The blade slid out of his hands and the moon blinked at him.

His last flickering thought was that he hoped Jongdae didn’t know how to cut a soul in half. And that in the next lifetime he would have a chance to get his revenge.

The sun was kissing Baekhyun’s cheeks when he regained the clarity of his mind and opened his eyes. He didn’t have to ponder onto what happened because one thing was clear:

_Jongdae didn’t kill him._

And Baekhyun realized that both of them made the biggest mistake of their lives. Because if there was one thing that could destroy everything that Baekhyun worked for - it was the pinch of doubt.

* * *

━━━━━━━ (1458) ━━━━━━━

The circle went like that: people die and get reborn. Maybe people didn’t know that but Baekhyun did. Somehow, he never doubted this order of things. No matter how many times he died, his brand-new self was aware of two things: that his soul had a past his mind couldn’t recall and that his heart bore a burden - a memory tucked deep in the corners of his subconsciousness.

And Baekhyun knew one more thing: he had a purpose that was given to him countries ago. The purpose had a form of a shadowy silhouette, a purpose like an outline of a ship that had yet to appear on the horizon’s line.

The world moved in circles: if there was a shadow, there was also a light. If Baekhyun was looking in dark alleys and empty corners, casting bright glow everywhere he looked, the shadows slipped beneath his feet, escaping far away from him. A natural contrast between a hunter and its prey.

It would be easier if Baekhyun knew what he was looking for.

* * *

━━━━━━━ (1505) ━━━━━━━

Baekhyun was proclaimed to be the most beautiful child that had been born in the 16th century. Whether it was for his excellent royal lineage or exquisite beauty, was not clear. On the day of his birth the royal chronicler reported as follows:

“The youngest offspring of our Gracious and Kind King and our Lovely Queen Consort seems to touch the world’s tender heart despite his very young age. It was noted that during the birth he did not cry and the tears that sprouted out of his eyes were in the colour of white gold. They were carefully collected to a porcelain vase and shall be stored in the royal vault.

The entire court held itself breath when our Majestic Queen was asked about the name of her youngest child. For all of us know that this name would leave its mark in the country’s history. At last, after long hours of keeping the kingdom waiting for the blessed name, we learned that she chose to call him Baekhyun. A strong name for a strong child. The most beautiful name for the most beautiful child of our times.”

━━━━━━━ (1515) ━━━━━━━

“Remember sir to keep your head high, your back straight, your face expressionless.” chided Baekhyun, his ethics teacher. “That will help you put your mind and heart at ease, sir.”

This time, Baekhyun was 10 years old and he was also called ‘sir’ by old men wearing heavily embroidered jackets and smelling of musk and alcohol. How could a boy, who was only 10 years old, put his mind and heart at ease, when his soul sang so loudly and his limbs ached to play outside?

“Sir? Are you even listening to me, sir?” the teacher’s voice grew stern and impatient, making Baekhyun tear his round, curious eyes away from the view outside the window.

When he opened his mouth, his sentences sounded like words of an adult spoken with a childish voice.

“Learn your patience before speaking to the prince,” Baekhyun looked at his teacher coldly. “Know your place.”

The cheeks of the educator took a shade of rosy red - a sign of embarrassment. Baekhyun nodded with satisfaction.

“I apologize, Your Majesty. You are right, I shouldn’t overstep,” he mumbled, gaze escaping the cold eyes of the beautiful child in front of him. “It was my mistake, please do forgive me.”

Prince’s lips widened slyly and the teacher knew that he fell straight into his trap. _He was cunning, that little prince_ \- that the old scholar had to admit. He helped with the education of all the royal offsprings but he had to admit that Baekhyun… Baekhyun was special. As his soul was much more experienced and older than his own.

“You shall be forgiven and I will not utter a word about this incident to my father,” - the unspoken ‘even though I should’ lingered in the air for long enough to make the scholar shudder, “If you take me out and play with me outside.” Baekhyun grinned, showing two rows of white teeth and one missing tooth at the front.

The scholar’s blood ran cold, “But sir- I mean, Your Majesty! The astrology-”

Baekhyun waved at him, dismissing whatever he had left to say. Suddenly his eyes seemed darker, more pensive too.

“My heart knows the stars better than yours.” the royal child snapped, pushing his dark hair from his forehead, “Do not speak about stars and fate as if you knew what you’re talking about,” he added and hopped off his high chair.

For a moment - he stood like that, watching the scholar hawk-like, behind the table. His chin was barely reaching the surface of the table but the teacher couldn’t help but squirm on his seat. There was something in Baekhyun… something that made his hands itchy to throw away everything he knew and learn the history of the world all over again.

“Do you need my assistance in something, Your Majesty?” he squeaked, “You wanted to go play outside, didn’t you?” he asked, gulping loudly.

Sighing deeply, Baekhyun only shook his head.

“You are dismissed,” he said simply and left the room, taking all the beauty and tension with him.

The scholar sank into his chair, eyes blown wide and adrenaline rushing like a thunder.

“Old soul meant for great things…” he whispered, lips turning white, “Soul tinned with magic meant for a dark future…” he added, voice barely above a sound of the wind.

━━━━━━━ (1538) ━━━━━━━

As the entire kingdom expected, Baekhyun had grown into a fine young man with fierce eyes and an aura that pulled everyone on their knees for him. Being the youngest son, he had to settle for a military career, but he didn’t particularly mind it. He enjoyed the thrill that the war carried and his sword felt only natural in his hands. No one was surprised when he was promoted as a general at a young age of 26. Now, two years later, after countless battles he had won and hundreds of enemies he defeated by his own hand, Baekhyun was steps away from crashing his greatest foe. 

He had been following the track for months and he was sure that soon enough, in less than a year, he would put an end to the abomination that Kim Jongdae and his tiny, vengeful army were.

To say that he was excited was an understatement.

“Could you stop bouncing your foot?” Chanyeol snapped at him in the silence of their tent

Baekhyun glared at him but put his foot on the ground. It was hard to stay immobile when his entire body felt like it was on fire. When his mind was so restless that he couldn’t sleep for three nights straight.

He could almost imagine the scent of ash on the tip on his tongue. He was so close to the ultimate victory, he knew that. His leg started bouncing again, shaking the cups that were standing on the table.

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol growled.

“I can’t help it,” Baekhyun shrugged with ease. “I’ve been waiting for that since…” _\- he wanted to say ‘forever’ but he wasn’t sure why, -_ “since I found out about his existence. He’s an insult to the crown.” 

Chanyeol put down _The Art Of War_ and tilted his head, looking at Baekhyun curiously.

“What?” Baekhyun spat out angrily, getting off his chair.

Chanyeol shook his head. “Nothing, It’s just… Whenever you speak of him, it feels like there’s something unspoken between the two of you.”

Huffing with annoyance, Baekhyun picked up Chanyeol’s book and started skipping through worn-out pages. His eyes, however, remained unfocused, as if he was far away. Lost in his thoughts or standing at the crossroad of the universe.

“What do you mean?” he asked finally, his fingers stopping at some random word. He wasn’t fooling anyone by his doings.

“I mean, Kim Jongdae and you,” Chanyeol made a break to allow Baekhyun hiss an angry ‘Kim Jongdae, I will kill you”. He was used to doing that by now. “You’ve never met and yet I can’t help but wonder whether you crossed paths in the past. In another world or different reality… For maybe you’ve been pitted against each other by the laws of nature” he mused, fully expecting another outburst.

However, nothing like that happened. Baekhyun’s fingers loosened their grip on the book and The War Of War by Tzu Sun fell on the ground. Chanyeol’s eyes shot to his friend’s face and even though he entertained the ideas of Baekhyun and Jongdae being fated foes - this thought had never seemed as real as it did now.

Baekhyun’s face was pale as a clean, white sheet and his eyes were darker than they had ever been as if years and years of history were flashing through his mind. His lips were pressed into a thin line and, Chanyeol wouldn’t be surprised if it was true, it looked like they were to open only to bite and tear Jongdae’s throat open.

Surprisingly, however, when Baekhyun opened his mouth, his words were petal soft and his voice wasn’t full of rage and anger but bitter melancholy.

“I cannot tell you whether this is true or not, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun blinked heavily. “There are places in my heart that my mind keeps locked away from me.” He leaned down and picked up the abandoned book. His fingers gently caressed the leather cover. “But my soul knows how to recognize an enemy. I trust myself on that.”

━━━━━━━ (1539) ━━━━━━━

The sky was dark with clouds, heavy with rain and pregnant with thunder and lightning. Baekhyun held his breath safe in his chest, as Chanyeol inspected the tombstone in front of them. He was scared that if he breathed, he would relish a fury this world wouldn’t survive. And the world needed to go forward. The year had to pass and the time had to still be cruel and unrelenting if-

“Here lies Kim Jongdae,” read Chanyeol out loud, his voice trembling.

“Louder,” Baekhyun ordered, but it sounded like a hopeless plea. “Read louder, Chanyeol.”

“Here lies Kim Jongdae,” read Chanyeol, voice rising above the sound of the rain, “died to prove that his fate always belongs to him.” he looked over his shoulder and bore his eyes into Baekhyun’s, “died to prove that even his death was his own choice.”

Baekhyun closed his eyes and let the raindrops fall on his face. Hoped that they would cool down the madness burning in his soul.

He hoped that the world would move on soon. That he would grow old and die and would chase Kim Jongdae in his future lifetime. That they would meet again and crash again and jump at each other's throat.

He trusted his soul enough to know that this would happen.

* * *

━━━━━━━ (1783) ━━━━━━━

Sometimes they were foes by the order of the world. Sometimes their hatred was ignited by a fire that didn’t have the right to burn. Sometimes one look was enough to tell that they were meant to hate each other.

But before Baekhyun gathered the strength to raise his hand, before he had time to pull the trigger, before the blade reached the curve of the neck and before the clever poison was poured into the cup, Jongdae flew into the big, wide world.

He disappeared as quickly as Baekhyun blinked. And he never came back.

As if he knew. As if he could tell.

And he always left Baekhyun wondering and hoping that his soul would remember - that it would remember that insult that Kim Jongdae was.

* * *

━━━━━━━ (1947) ━━━━━━━

The asphalt road was burning Baekhyun’s feet when he saw the infamous Kim Jongdae for the first time in this lifetime. His head was thrown to the back as he laughed loudly - laughter that felt both mocking and daring at the same time. His throat was sunkissed, exposed, fully revealed and Baekhyun - who was a pacifist by heart - wondered what was that nasty feeling forming at the pit of his stomach.

 _Bloodlust_ \- suggested a tiny voice at the back of his head and his veins turned into silver threads of liquid ice - _you actually miss it, don’t you?_ \- teased the voice, awfully similar to the voice of the commander of their platoon.

“ _No, no, no,"_ he argued. “ _The war is over. No one is dying._ ” he swallowed hard, watching the slope of Kim Jongdae’s nose and the curve of his smile. _How dared he laughs here where so many people have died?_

The hatred was boiling in his heart like burning coal, to the point when Baekhyun felt like crying. Fat, round, salty tears brimming in his eyes without a warning, without an answer to the question “but why?”

The war was over, and he shouldn’t be hating people on the streets.

“That’s Kim Jongdae and his gang, hyung,” Sehun nudged Baekhyun’s side with his sharp elbow. “The rumour said that he refused to fight in the war.”

 _Ah, there we have it,_ \- thought Baekhyun bitterly. His heart must have recognized that traitor before he learned the truth. Everyone fought in the war and everyone lost something in the war. The memory of Chanyeol’s smile flashed through Baekhyun’s head, the image skipping across his thoughts like a hummingbird.

“So he’s a coward,” Baekhyun breathed out, words tumbling down before his voice raised above a whisper.

Sehun hummed, impartial as always. He was a few years younger than Baekhyun - young enough to remember only half of what Baekhyun had imprinted on his eyelids.

“I’m not here to decide who he is, Baekhyun,” Sehun shrugged and his hand landed on Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Come on, hyung. There’s nothing for us to look for here.”

Baekhyun could have sworn that he felt Kim Jongdae’s gaze on his nape, as he was walking away. The flames in his heart were now wild enough to tickle the base of his throat, the edges of his lungs and the core of his soul.

At that moment, Baekhyun - once again - decided that he hated Jongdae for being able to laugh so hard. And for everything else he didn’t know about him.

━━━━━━━ (1949) ━━━━━━━

Kim Jongdae soon grew to be a local star. In the gloomy reality, where the sky was still ash-grey and the sun still refused to bless the earth with light that didn’t seem dimmed, Jongdae was known as a gust of something fresh and comforting.

Sooner than Baekhyun was prepared for, Jongdae’s name was everywhere. All of his neighbours loved that boy, some even called him “our friendly gumiho”. Well, in Baekhyun’s opinion he was everything but magical. Yes, he was sly, yes he was quick and agile and - above all - he was more than suspicious. 

Sadly, no one aside from him needed to notice that.

“There used to be more people like him...” Baekhyun muttered, watching Jongdae rush down the street with a wide smile plastered to his face. _A relic of the past when people used to smile every day._

Sehun shrugged, watching Baekhyun with a fond expression on his face. Sehun was the soft edge of the blade in the world full of ash. 

“Why do you dislike him so much, hyung? You don’t know him,” he questioned. “Did you two have beef in your previous lifetime or what?” he joked lightly, something he rarely did in Baekhyun’s presence. 

Kim Jongdae disappeared behind the corner of the street. Baekhyun’s back straightened up as if he swallowed a stick that instantly grew into his spine to keep him in the uncomfortable position forever. His face - previously wearing at least some hints of colour - grew grey and sombre.

“Hyung?” Sehun asked tentatively, anxious whether it was another of Baekhyun’s episodes.

The street was still vibrating along with the laughter Jongdae left behind him. Baekhyun’s eyes were stinging. He was jealous that Jongdae could still laugh in such a carefree way. And he was so angry that he did it so unabashedly. 

━━━━━━━ (1950) ━━━━━━━

It was later summer, five years after the war came to an end when the world had - once again - turned upside down for Baekhyun. The weather didn’t match his faulty mood. The air wasn’t thick like his blood was and the sun was warming his skin pleasantly, instead of burning it.

It was summer, five years after the war came to an end when Baekhyun, once again, became a murderer.

It was also the first time Baekhyun had ever since Kim Jongdae without a company, without his little gang floating behind him, without elderly people laughing at his jokes and without young girls smiling at him flirtatiously. So, without a doubt, it was a very special day.

Asked about it, Baekhyun wouldn’t be able to tell why he scrambled at the hood of an abandoned tank and sat beside Jongdae. Around the base of the vehicle, some roses and daisies were growing. Baekhyun thought that ironic. Almost just as ironic as him sitting beside damned Kim Jongdae.

His stomach was burning and his skin was itching for something.

 _Violence, you miss violence,_ \- indicated the nasty voice, crawling in the darkest corners of Baekhyun’s mind. His commander died - shot by a machine gun in the last month of the war - but his voice still lived inside Baekhyun’s head. _Remember we unleashed a hell in one of the occupier’s cafes? I made you a hero_ \- asked the commander and he sounded cheerful. ( _You made me a hero but at what cost?_ ) Baekhyun pushed that question away - he became a pacifist the moment the war came to an end. He _despised_ violence. He got nauseous whenever he saw blood.

Kim Jongdae chuckled. Baekhyun wanted to tear his throat apart, crawl inside and find out how he could smile after the war.

“Byun Baekhyun by my side? Is the doom’s day knocking at the door?” Jongdae smiled. His arm brushed against Baekhyun’s.

“Shut up, you’re pushing your luck,” Baekhyun grunted.

A tiny, green cricket jumped at the top of the tank, stopping in the place between Jongdae’s and Baekhyun’s thighs. If any of them moved - it would get crashed without a doubt. The cricket hopped in the spot, making a small sound. It filled the silence like water fills up an empty glass of water - full but still transparent, the tension breathing at the surface and rippling the surface.

Baekhyun expected the moment to last forever, or at least until the fire in his heart died out, making it possible to breathe again. But, naturally, the reality wasn’t that simple with Kim Jongdae.

“Didn’t all of us push our luck enough in the past?” Jongdae asked wistfully.

Every word was like a new flame sprouting out of Baekhyun’s chest.

“I don’t know,” he replied bitterly, “Did all of us push our luck?”

Jongdae’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t understand what you mean…”

Baekhyun snarled. Hearing such a cruel lie coming from those lips, felt like a slap across his cheek.

“I’ve heard that when the war broke out, you didn’t exactly follow the steps of most of the nation's men,” he said, raising his chin ever so slightly.

To his utter surprise, Jongdae didn’t seem fazed by that accusation. He merely shrugged in response.

“There’s no shame in looking out for yourself,” he declared softly when Baekhyun glared at him to speak. “I’ve always known that… there’s something, someone out there in this world who wants me to leave my existence prematurely. I didn’t want it to turn out to be an unknown soldier and a bullet of a nameless sniper.”

Baekhyun’s heart compressed in his chest uncomfortably, but it did nothing to stop the rage growing in him the longer he sat beside Jongdae.

“How can you tell?” he uttered and for the first time, he felt something mildly compassionate towards Jongdae. Living with this feeling must truly be terrible.

Once again, he was replied with a long minute of silence, disrupted only with the sound of the gaslighter. The smoke was clogging Baekhyun's throat and frankly, it annoyed him a lot but decided to let it slide. Just that one time.

“How can I tell?” Jongdae repeated the question and made a funny face. He took a long drag and puffed the smoke through his nose. It must have burned a lot. “I don’t know. I’ve always known that there’s… someone looking for me. And that their intentions aren’t pure at all. I know that eventually I have to die by their hand,” the smoke curled around his fingers, like he had the power to control it. “The question is when will that happen,” he added, glancing at Baekhyun with the corner of his eyes.

To that Baekhyun didn’t reply with anything. His thoughts were too busy with conflicting emotions to speak. The irrational hatred that was overflowing in his soul, the disgust at the strange negativeness he felt around Jongdae and the shy and barely-there sympathy he had barely discovered.

Jongdae threw the cigarette far away. The burning out puff falling slowly into the colourful meadow. The ash coming from the tip must have tinted the poppy seed’s petals grey but, from the distance, Baekhyun couldn’t tell if it did. Jongdae slid off the hood of the tank and stretched his body with a loud yawn.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going home.” he threw over his shoulder, looking at the meadow impassively.

Baekhyun made up his mind before the logic kicked in.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said.

It was his first mistake.

The second one was jokingly pushing Jongdae into the river, completely and utterly unaware that he couldn’t swim.

The other one mistake was realizing that Jongdae was drowning right in front of him, desperately gasping for air, and getting lost in his head - strange, unfamiliar images flashing in his head like an old movie or ancient photos. Jongdae’s face but different - looking at him with anger and disappointment. The anger and confusion burned in Baekhyun’s heart more than it ever had in the past. The heat of the moment swallowing his body, like the river’s waves were swallowing Jongdae.

“Baekhyun-” Jongdae coughed out weakly.

Baekhyun’s heart made a sound like a drum and suddenly there was a woman in front of him. A shadow-like figure wearing a traditional mask and reeking of herbs, blood and magic. “Cut out the piece of his soul before it’s too late, Baekhyun.” the woman’s voice rang in Baekhyun’s mind. Every word was punctuated with a splash of the water behind her.

_(Jongdae was dying.)_

_It’s an enemy, Baekhyun, just let him die,_ \- this time the phantom spoke with his commander’s voice. - _It’s an order._

He tried to blink the woman away but she wouldn’t disappear, she wouldn’t stop staring at him with her face hidden behind the mask and her eyes barely visible through the splits in it. His head was throbbing at the intensity of the vision. 

“You are meant to take his soul, Baekhyun. Don’t you remember?” the ghost laughed loudly, pushing a blade into his hands and Baekhyun froze. The weapon was almost transfluent but felt solid in his grip - he could feel its tip stinging his eye with its sharp edge, his skin tingled at the coldness of the golden handle.

“Just drag him out of the water and push the blade into his heart, Baekhyun.” encouraged the phantom, speaking as if it was the easiest thing to do. “You owe that much to your soul. Just kill him properly.”

The terror was turning Baekhyun’s body cold and his fingers damp with sweat. He was shivering on his whole body, the awful memories from his past life, mixing with the hatred he carried in his heart. A self-inflicted hatred that he asked for hundreds of years ago.

 _You killed dozens during the war,_ \- reminded the commander crawling out of the shadows of Baekhyun’s mind.

The water in the river was splashing but the sound was much fainter than a few minutes ago as if whoever was struggling there was slowly losing strength and hope for a rescue. And Baekhyun? Baekhyun stood there, dizzy and lost, absolutely terrifying by himself and whatever monster he was deep down inside.

When he looked over the phantom’s shoulder, he saw the ripples on the surface but nothing more. The blade fell out of his hands and - running directly through the phantom-like woman - Baekhyun jumped straight into the water. But it was too late.

Some would argue that being late it was his final mistake.

━━━━━━━ (1954) ━━━━━━━

Baekhyun stopped washing the dishes and through the window watched Minseok sneak at the back of the store. He should have called the police or raised an alarm. Perhaps warn the shop keeper - he should do something because he knew that theft was wrong and should be punished.

“ _But murder is even worst,_ ” his lips moved, shaping his words into a secret but no sound came out. “But Minseok was the only person who looked for _Him_ …” he breathed out, quietly.

“You were saying something, hyung?” Sehun’s head peaked behind the corner, eyes narrow with suspicion.

The plate that Baekhyun was washing, plopped back into the basin, a little bit of dirty water splashing at Baekhyun’s trembling hands. He quickly put them into the cold water.

“No, no,” he shook his head, not sure if he was still responding to Sehun or to something ugly forming at the back of his head. “Everything’s alright.”

Sehun watched Baekhyun for a couple of seconds - long enough for Baekhyun to start freaking out that he could read the truth in his posture, the tense line of his arms, the hollowness of his eyes.

“Alright, if you say so, hyung…” muttered Sehun and left the kitchen.

Baekhyun took a deep breath in through his nose and looked at the basin. The water was murky and the bubbles were bursting one by one. Baekhyun squinted at the surface, trying to see his pale hands beneath it.

No matter how long he was staring, all he could see was Kim Jongdae looking at him with accusation and his own hands aiming to wrap around Jongdae’s neck.

He didn’t believe in gods or afterlife, but he hoped that if samsara were real, he would suffer a lot for what he did to Kim Jongdae. He hoped that he hurt a lot because drowning sounded like the worst death. Almost as painful as being stabbed in the back.

And Baekhyun hoped, he really did, that if Kim Jongdae allowed him, he would do much better in the future.

* * *

━━━━━━━ (2054) ━━━━━━━

Baekhyun’s life was going great until some idiot behind a wheel of a freaking Alfa Romeo ran into him on the zebra crossing.

That’s when it all came to shit.

━━━━━━━ (March 2056) ━━━━━━━

Sometimes the world is a whole globe and the sky that spreads over your head and the universe hiding behind the stars and moon and the clouds and the sun. Sometimes the world is massive and inviting. As if it wanted you to go outside and explore its wonders.

For Baekhyun the world was one apartment and the shelf stacked with painkillers and all kinds of pills and drugs that helped him survive the week.

_“You’re lucky that you’re alive!” exclaimed the doctor when Baekhyun woke up from a coma. “I know only a few people who survived an accident like that,” he added cheerfully as if he was expecting for Baekhyun to smile._

But his lips back then were cracked from dehydration. He could barely quirk them upwards.

Today, he also had troubles smiling and his lips were also cracked from how many times a day he bit them anxiously. Sometimes the honking of cars rushing outside his apartment still made him jump.

 _He was lucky to be alive,_ he reminded himself, curled in his duvet. Someone anonymously donated blood and the doctors deemed him strong enough to make it through the surgery. His organs, back then, were bruised and bleeding and aching so much that it hurt his core. Now, they were sewed with so many stitches that Baekhyun was almost completely made of synthetics. 

_He was lucky to be alive._ Even if his life was tiny and his existence was squeezed into the size of his apartment. Lucky to be alive and live his little, irrelevant and easily forgettable life.

 _He was lucky to be alive._ Too scared to exist like a normal person and too damaged to be given a chance to at least try being normal for once. The wires that ran across his chest, glowing every time his breathing cut short. The earphone in his left ear buzzing at 5 pm every day to remind him to take his pills.

 _He was lucky to be alive._ But what kind of life was he living if he wasn’t sure if stranger’s blood and medicine that piled in his body, belonged to him or someone else?

━━━━━━━ (April 2056) ━━━━━━━

Baekhyun liked playing games more than anything. He was one of these people who actually were lucky enough (ha) to earn money by doing what they love. Due to his preference for staying indoors and thanks to his natural gaming talent, he became a professional gamer easier than he thought.

He played professionally on Mondays and Thursdays, streamed live on Fridays and every two weeks on Saturdays and played for fun every Tuesday and Sunday. Wednesdays were essential days of breaks that he usually mopped in bed and did grocery shopping. 

Even though he loved his job and his fans too, he had to admit that Sundays had soon become his favourite day of the week. There were a lot of things that he associated with this day: sleeping till noon, waking up to Chanyeol angrily knocking on his, eating left-over, greasy pizza and chatting over Chanyeol’s terrible life-choices, and - finally - playing The Elven Revenge with Chen who was supposed to play for the opposite team but Baekhyun made him cave in and switch the teams last month. 

It felt lovely. Every since then, they talked every Sunday and, sometimes, Tuesday too. 

“You’re obsessed with him,” Chanyeol commented between one bite of extra-large, extra-cheesy Meaty Delight Pizza.

“As a Soobsessed person, you have no right to judge me for making friends online,” Baekhyun pointed at him with his oily fingers and gulped a tiny pink pill - the one that kept his blood pressure right.

The tips of Chanyeol’s ears changed their colour, flashing at Baekhyun pink, like the pill he had just swallowed. Baekhyun smiled at him triumphally. The conversation - at least for now was over. 

The gummy cheesy was sticking to Baekhyun’s throat and he wondered wherever Chen liked extra-cheesy pizza or was he more of a “mozzarella sticks” type of person. Perhaps, if Baekhyun was brave enough, he would ask him about that today. Like a total creep, he carefully gathered every single piece of information that he learned about Chen.

The list wasn’t long: 

  1. Chen was very nice.
  2. He had a tiny youtube channel but wouldn’t share how was it called
  3. He was a cat-person (“The cat-boy entered the chat!” Baekhyun typed whenever the dot near Chen’s name changed from red to green)
  4. He liked playing with Healer characters more than anything else.
  5. He had no idea that Baekhyun was a professional gamer and made fun of him every time accidentally shoot himself in the foot.
  6. He really liked overanalyzing everything that Baekhyun did. (“What kind of username is BlehBaek? Do you have self-esteem issues?”)



Overall, it would be lovely to learn what kind of pizza Chen liked. He wanted to add another little fact about Chen to his list.

Baekhyun licked the grease from his fingers, thoughts conjuring fantasies so ridiculous that they were almost hard to imagine. Like, Baekhyun taking Chen out for dinner. Or Baekhyun asking Chen out. Or Baekhyun inviting Chen home and ordering pizza together and their lips connecting through a thick thread of cold cheese and-

“I can literally hear your disgusting thoughts. You are so hooked on this guy,” Chanyeol rolled his eyes and threw a napkin, aiming at Baekhyun’s head. The tissue ended up hitting his chest. The metallic plank over his heart replied to this assault with a low humming sound. Baekhyun automatically poked the spot beneath it to turn the sound off.

Chanyeol stifled his laugh.

“If you two ever met, it would be so fucking awkward, dude,” he snickered, ignoring the nasty glare Baekhyun sent his way, “He would greet you, and the electricity in your heart would probably start playing waltz or some romantic shit like that.”

Baekhyun plucked a black olive from the semi-warm layer of cheese and flung it in Chanyeol’s direction.

He didn’t bother denying it. He would never dare to ask Chen if he wanted to meet up someday. Not when Chen still thought of him as a normal person - not a medical abomination. 

━━━━━━━ (June 2056) ━━━━━━━

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _King, r u free?_

Baekhyun choked on his cola, the bubbles rising in his throat and making his heart pop. The liquid trickled out from the corner of his lips and dripped on the black surface of his desk. His fingers were shaking so violently that he was afraid whether his nails would fall off as he typed the reply slowly.

 **BlehBaek:** _???? tf?_

Ah, yes, he was a true intellectual.

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _don’t be dramatic_

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _I’m bored_

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _I think you mentioned living Seoul_

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _you wanna meet up or smth?_

Baekhyun had been mistaken. The nails on his fingers were completely safe from falling away. It was his sanity that was shaking like a leaf, ready to fall from the third floor that he lived on and smash into the concrete pavement.

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _you can say no?_

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _haha?_

The screen glitched and a new character appeared in the corner of the chatroom - the woman who looked like a shaman. Baekhyun frowned, he had never seen a character with a design like hers. Above her head there was a tiny message bar:

_Please accept this: one (1) blade to kill your immortal enemy._

Baekhyun frowned and quickly clicked “decline”, he knew better than to accept free gifts from the trolling users. 

His eyes travelled back to the “haha?”. He wondered just how brave Chen was to ask that, considering that neither of them even mentioned this possibility. Baekhyun dreamed of that, hoped and wished but he never entertained this idea For Real. He wouldn’t dare push his limits like that. Not when Chen was one of the only people in the world that didn’t treat Baekhyun like he was made of glass. (But he was made of steel and blood and a lot of stress.)

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, cuticles of his right hand bitten so hard that they were almost bloody red.

 **BlehBaek:** _sry, i was taking a shit_

Baekhyun gulped, trying to sound as normal as he could.

 **BlehBaek** : _i’d love to meet up and grab a coffee :)_

 **BlehBaek:** _not today tho, i’m a bit sick_

(I’m a bit sick every day but you don’t have to know that.)

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _gross_

 **OurChe(o)nSaCHEN:** _ur lucky that I still owe you for saving my ass in Zombie’s Massacre 3_

_(Lucky.)_

Baekhyun wished that during one of the dozen surgeries he went through, they would actually make the space meant for his heart a bit larger. Because, even now, he could feel his heart growing rapidly. He couldn’t possibly imagine how big it would grow once Jongdae stands in front of him.

_(And how spectacular would it break into thousands of pieces when Jongdae found him a freak.)_

━━━━━━━ (June 2056) ━━━━━━━

The organic and non-organic parts of Baekhyun’s body were quivering under his hoodie as he was leaning over the wall on the station 18 (“ _Train heading toBusan that was delayed by 16 minutes arrived at the Station 18. Please don’t forget your luggage and-_ ” and remember that your worth isn’t defined by how much of your body actually belongs to you and how much to the machine that happens to help you). It was quarter past 2 pm and Baekhyun would have to take his pills in less than an hour if he didn’t want to start coughing with blood within the next 4 hours.

It was truly maddening that his usual doctor had to move to Busan and now Baekhyun had to travel so far for a simple check-up. He swallowed the lump in his throat and crossed the station to get into the train. Finding his compartment took him less time than he thought it would.

Baekhyun settled on his seat and pulled his phone out of his pocket, along with the box with his pills. He was fishing out his usual 2-3 pm set (one blue pill, one purple and one white - the last one was a probiotic so it wasn’t a must but it was better to take it) when the doors to his compartment opened and a middle-aged woman stepped inside. Her gaze immediately fell to the colourful pills lying on Baekhyun’s open and trembling hand.

Like a paper sheet tackled by a spark and licked by a flame, he felt himself growing small under her unyielding and judging eyes. He closed his palm and squeezed himself into the corner of the compartment, deciding that perhaps it would be less stressful to take the pills when he was in a bathroom stall.

His fingers swiped across the screen of his phone to take his mind off the woman sitting in front of him ( _would she tell someone that she saw a medicine junky with a prosthetic eye and a hearing aid on the train? She probably would._ Baekhyun absolutely hated that). He automatically opened the messaging app before reminding himself that Chanyeol and Kyungsoo were both at work - that’s why he had to take a train in the first place. He was scrolling through his list of contacts (very short, mostly names of his doctors - five emergency contacts for both humans, androids and that one doctor that specialized in both), when his eyes fell on one particular name.

“ _Chen"_

He never had enough courage to actually use it. He wasn’t even sure how he got Chen’s phone number in the first place. But now - it didn’t matter. It was there and it looked so tempting. His fingers were cold and numb when he was typing his message - the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his lips and his eyes glossy with anxiety and excitement.

 **Baekhyun:** _Hi!_

 **Baekhyun:** _It’s Baekhyun_

The train rumbled and Baekhyun could feel that with his entire body.

 **Chen:** _Baekhyun?_ (*´･o･)

Baekhyun felt heat overtaking his cheeks.

 **Baekhyun:** _is this chen’s number? Or did i screw up?_

 **Chen:** _no, it’s definitely me!_

 **Chen:** _srry_

 **Chen:** _I just never thought you’d actually ever text me_

 **Chen:** _but clear you did_ (╯✧∇✧)╯

 **Chen:**.+:｡(ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ

 **Chen:** _wassup, my man?_

Baekhyun smiled unwillingly, already feeling a little bit at ease.

 **Baekhyun:** _nothing…_

He bit the inside of his cheek.

 **Baekhyun:** _do you wanna hear what just happened to me?_

 **Chen:** _I’m all ears ≧ω≦_

━━━━━━━ (July 2056) ━━━━━━━

Sometimes picking up a phone call was harder than on the other days. Baekhyun stared at the name displayed on his screen. It was unfamiliar in its familiarity.

 _“He never called me…”_ thousands of thoughts running through his head with the speed of lighting. _“What if something happened?”_

He raised the phone to his ear and pressed “accept the call”.

“Hello?” he asked.

There was a gasp coming from the other side of the call. Baekhyun cleared his throat and gripped the phone tighter, fearing that it would end up slipping out from his clammy fingers.

“Hello? Chen?” he asked again, his tongue felt like it was made out of a wet sponge.

“Baekhyun.”

Now it was his time to gasp. Chen’s voice was so small, so frail. So unnatural and Baekhyun could tell that something was wrong despite hearing that voice for the first time in his life.

“Chennie,” the nickname slipped easily past his teeth. His hand rested above his heart to keep the plank from rattling noisily. “What’s wrong?”

There was a long pause but he waited patiently.

“I think I’m having a panic attack and all of my friends are unavailable for now and I didn’t know whom should I call and your name was just there and-”

Baekhyun inhaled sharply.

“Chennie, calm down, focus on your breathing. I don’t mind,” he exhaled, voice gentle and quiet. “I don’t mind at all.”

(It was later, much later, that he realized that Chen’s voice rang a bell.)

**Chen:** _dude, I’m so sorry for calling so unexpectedly_

 **Chen:** _I, like, never do that_

 **Chen:** _but it was-_

 **Chen:** _you know_

 **Baekhyun:** _yeah… actually i do_

Baekhyun hugged himself, staring at the phone in the darkness of his room. Chen was taking awfully long to text back. The typing bubbles appeared and disappeared next to his name as if he was typing but wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. Baekhyun could relate.

 **Chen:** _it’s actually so stupid, i never told you that before_

 **Chen:** _but i have… anxiety problems ever since i can rmmbr_

 **Chen:** _i see the doctor and shit and i take my meds but sometimes it’s just so…_

 **Baekhyun:** _so shit?_

 **Chen:** _yeah_

 **Chen:** _i’m an idiot_

 **Baekhyun:** _no, youre not_

 **Chen:** _i’m obsessed with the idea that my soul is not…_

 **Chen:** _that it’s…_

 **Chen:** _i have a feeling that it’s not complete_

 **Chen:** _or rather, that a piece of it is connected to smth bigger_

A single tear rolled down Baekhyun’s cheek but he wiped it away quickly - in case Jongdae crawled out of his phone and sat in front of him to judge him in his trembling with nervous glory.

 **Chen:** _it feels stupid, pls forget that_

 **Baekhyun:** _NO!_

 **Baekhyun:** _i mean. no. i get what you mean_

And as soon as he pressed send to that text he realized just how true his words were. And he thought that maybe he never felt full, not because half of his body was made of synthetic and ran thanks to a shittone of pills, but because there was a piece of him that was disattached from something he was meant to be connected with.

 **Chen** : _I’m also paranoid that I will get murdered, haha_

That, for some reason, Baekhyun didn’t find funny at all.

━━━━━━━ (August 2056) ━━━━━━━

The rush of his blood was as loud as the sound of noise in his head. Fear and excitement and longing and terror, even anger - at himself, Baekhyun supposed - all of them were blending into one, big, black pit in the middle of Baekhyun’s chest.

It had taken him two months so text Chen a simple question (“Hey, if you’re still bored, we could hang out next week, if you want?”), throw his phone at the ground and hide his face in the pillow for the next half an hour (until he had to get up and change the filter in his hearing aid).

(Chen was more than overjoyed to agree to Baekhyun’s suggestion.)

The street was busy and Baekhyun could feel how heated the asphalt was through the sole of his shoe. The glassy walls of the building were almost blinding him with how much sunlight they were reflecting.

“Um, excuse me?” asked a tiny voice coming behind Baekhyun. His hearing aid beeped with interest and Baekhyun looked over his shoulder, his eyes falling at the man his age.

He could instantly tell who that was. Baekhyun had never seen Jongdae but he had been imagining what he could look like for months. It was almost terrifying how similar the reality was to the face that he had shaped in his mind. 

The only thing that was different was the hesitation painted in Chen’s eyes, the dark eye bags beneath them and the teeth sank in his bottom lips. He looked so… vulnerable and fragile and for a moment Baekhyun feared that he would run away and leave Baekhyun in the dust. To leave him to burn under the bright sun and open sky.

“Hi,” Chen smiled a little bit braver, a teasing lilt in his voice, telling Baekhyun that if he started burning, Chen would stay. Even if it was only to watch the flames consume him.

A glitchy figure appeared in the corner of Baekhyun’s eyes. The same shaman-like woman that he had been seeing for the past few weeks. Baekhyun took off his ipad-sunglasses. He should really get them fixed because, clearly, they were bugged.

“You must be Chen.” he replied faintly, hoping that the bumps on his chest weren’t visible through his thick hoodie. Hoping that his so obviously red eye wasn't as scary as it was this morning. “I’m Baekhyun.” he pushed his hair off his forehead. He was drenched with sweat.

Chen bit at his bottom lips again. He had pretty lips - Baekhyun noted - he looked like he was smiling even if he clearly was nervous.

“It’s Jongdae actually. Kim Jongdae.” Jongdae clarified, his eyes met Baekhyun’s for the first time in a century. “It’s… it’s nice to meet you.”

Baekhyun’s heart exploded with thousands of pieces, flooding his body with warmth and warmth only. Something deep down his soul wept hearing this name. The name that - he realized he knew before Jongdae shared it with him.

Baekhyun reached out to shake Jongdae's hand. His skin was tender and looked breakable. Veins prominent on his wrists and arms. Baekhyun hoped that he had put on some sunscreen. Jongdae’s fingers felt warm in his hand. The warmth disappeared quickly though.

Jongdae rocked back and forward on his heels.

“Well, you certainly don’t look like a serial killer,” he laughed, red blush decorating his cheeks and neck.

That made Baekhyun laugh, muffling the soul of his weeping soul. The soul always cries quietly, hiding what it has to hide deep down to grant a better life to its owner. Because even Baekhyun’s soul knew that perhaps it’s time for a different life for Jongdae and him.

Perhaps, the bond between them - the one tied on them hundreds of years ago - could still be reversed. In fact, it has already started reversing.

“You’re half droid?” asked Jongdae curiously, his eyes slipping down from the top of Baekhyun’s head - stopping at his artificial eye and the bump on his chest.

Baekhyun’s blood ran cold.

“I- yeah…” he shrugged, trying to be indifferent about the part of him that had cost him so much.

“Cool,” Jongdae smiled. He looked completely unbothered, “How did it happen? If you don’t mind me asking?” his little finger hooked over the bracelet on Baekhyun’s wrist and tugged him to start walking down the street.

“Car accident,” Baekhyun swallowed, subtly brushing the skin on his wrist against Jongdae’s finger. “I was lucky, that’s what my doctor said.”

Jongdae hummed thoughtfully. They walked down the street and it felt silent even though the city around them was noisier than ever.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of luck,” said Jongdae all of the sudden, “It’s a matter of your will. Maybe subconsciously you knew that you have to live on, to survive, because there were - there are - things that you have to do.”

“You mean a proper closure?” questioned Baekhyun, opening the door to his building.

The staircase was cold and empty and Jongdae’s words echoed through the entire building.

“No,” he shook his head firmly, looking at Baekhyun from the corner of his eyes, “I mean all the things that you haven’t lived for long enough to see.”

━━━━━━━ (October 2056) ━━━━━━━

Jongdae wiggled into Baekhyun’s routine like he always belonged there. Easily, without any of them notice, he found a favorite pillow on Baekhyun’s sofa. He had a mug he hated using and the one he liked best. Baekhyun knew his usual order at the cafe and remembered the name of the restaurant that Jongdae absolutely adored.

Learning facts about Jongdae was as effortless as breathing. It came as naturally as streaming World of Wonder on Friday and playing The Eternal Doom on Sunday. If knowing Jongdae was a game, Baekhyun would pass the levels and climb the chartboards faster than anyone else.

Carefully, making sure that nobody was watching, Baekhyun’s eyes slid down Jongdae’s slender figure as he was leaning over the balustrade. He remembered seeing Jongdae for the first time and thinking how delicate he looked. Now, he knew better. He recognized the fire that burned behind his eyes and saw the sharp teeth he was hiding behind his teasing smile.

Jongdae was like a will-o'-wisp - slender and slight but not defenseless nor weak.

Baekhyun thought that he would hate to have him as an enemy, because if Jongdae ever wanted to get rid of him for good - he would easily find the way to do that. About that Baekhyun had no doubt.

A cold ice-cone was pushed into Baekhyun’s hands.

“One vanilla because you’re boring, and one mint-chocolate because you’re also a menace,” Jongdae grinned at him widely. His fingers brushed against Baekhyun’s, but he managed to convince himself that the only reason his hand felt cold was because of the dripping ice-cone.

He looked down at the creamy-minty-sticky liquid that was already trailing down his wrist and staining the hem of his hoodie. Then, he looked up at Jongdae, not even trying to hide the disgust.

“I can’t believe you destroyed a perfectly good ice-cream by choosing a toothpaste flavour,” he shuddered, the tip of his tongue carefully licking the sweet drops off his fingers. The mixture tasted like shit - just like he expected.

Jongdae studiously watched Baekhyun’s endeavors, his eyes fixed at his lips as if his life depended on that. 

“You really do love watching me suffer, huh?” Baekhyun laughed awkwardly and Jongdae just hummed in reply. 

Sleek bastard and his stupid cotton-pink ice-cream with an extra sprinkle. As if he couldn’t get any cuter. His eyes still on the disgusting baby-mint mess covering Baekhyun’s fingers, Jongdae took a fat lick of his own ice-cream. It made Baekhyun feel a little bit hot under the collar. He quickly sank his teeth into the frigid softness of the ice-cream and immediately hissed with pain, the melted bits sticking to his lips like gum.

Jongdae laughed, Baekhyun chuckled. _He felt like an idiot but a good kind of an idiot._ The ice-cream fell on the ground.

Jongdae started laughing even harder.

“I can get you another one,” he suggested, wiping the tear forming in the corners of his eyes. His cheeks were rosy red. Like his ice-cream. 

Baekhyun shook his head, making grabby hands for the tissue Jongdae was holding.

“It’s meds' time soon, anyway, I shouldn’t really eat anything cold before taking the pills. It fucks up with my immune system,” he confessed, wondering when he became so comfortable about sharing all these shameful details of his life with a complete stranger.

_But Jongdae wasn’t a stranger anymore, was he? Or, was he ever a stranger in the first place? Baekhyun’s heart couldn’t tell. Baekhyun’s soul rolled that piece of information at the back of his mind._

Jongdae nodded with understanding, “Copy that. No ice-cream before 6 pm.” he said out loud and it almost looked like he was making a mental note about it, ''Can I at least treat you a canned green tea and cheesy fries then? You shouldn’t take your meds with an empty stomach.”

It was a decent thing to offer but Baekhyun was far too gone and in a far too good mood at the moment to let it slip. His sharp elbow landed in the space between Jongdae’s rib cage and his hipbone. 

“If you’re trying to ask me out, it’s the least romantic date scenario ever.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes, expecting Jongdae to laugh along with the joke.

But Jongdae only looked at him with an odd look in his eyes. The hunger behind his gaze made Baekhyun wonder whether Jongdae was in a need of french fries himself.

“Well, then, tell me,” Jongdae threw the dirty napkin into the trashcan nearby, his gestures jerky and uncoordinated, his voice a tad higher than usual. The nervousness Baekhyun hadn’t seen in a while, written all over Jongdae’s face, “What is _your_ perfect date scenario?”

_You._

If forming a coherent, nonchalant answer to this question, asked by your crush was a battle, Baekhyun would be losing. He cleared his throat and choked on his saliva. Jongdae hid his not-so-subtle smile behind his hand.

“First date?” For the lack of better ideas, Baekhyun repeated the question, “I don’t know? A gaming night?”

Jongdae raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “A gaming night?”

“Like a movie night!” Baekhyun quickly offered an explanation, “But it’s actually gaming!”

“Sounds nerdy,” Jongdae stretched out his arms and Baekhyun refused to look down and check whether Jongdae’s skin and the brand of his boxers were showing (he usually wore calvin kleins; a piece of information carefully stored under the “special facts” label).

He yawned widely, his head thrown to the back, which made Baekhyun kick the stone to avoid looking at the expanse of Jongdae’s neck. (Baekhyun dreamed of marking it his.) 

“Unless,” Jongdae continued after his impromptu little show, “You mean playing games like playing strip poker. Whoever loses, loses a piece of clothing. If that’s the case, then it’s a sexy type of nerdy.”

“Wouldn’t make sense. I'm a professional gamer, of course, that I would win,” Baekhyun argued, thinking about all these days when he purposely let Jongdae win when they were playing on his gaming console.

Jongdae looked at him, eyes raking up and down, as if he wanted to pull Baekhyun out of his hoodie with the sheer power of his will.

“Are you sure about that, big guy?” he asked slowly.

Baekhyun shrugged. "Depends on who would I be playing against."

On the next evening, Jongdae knocked on his door in a checked shirt and a white t-shirt, with his bobby pins that were clearly trying to keep his messy hair together. His jeans were ripped on his thighs and he held a box of steaming pizza in his hands. The overall effect had all the ingredients required to go for an “all-kill”.

“So,” Jongdae smirked at Baekhyun when he tapped quiet the plank cluttering above his heart. “How do you feel about a gaming night?”

Baekhyun felt pretty damn good about that.

━━━━━━━

The first kiss they shared was over a left-over pasta in a plastic container that they ordered when Jongdae was still feeling hungry.

“Do you mind if I have a taste of that?” Baekhyun asked, veins bursting with adrenaline and hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that he was almost positive it would leave a mark.

“Sure,” Jongdae held out a fork with macaroni on it. It was sticky with the sauce.

Baekhyun took the fork and put it down onto the counter. Before Jongdae could protest, he closed the distance between them, tasting the tomato sauce from his lips. It was spicy and delicious and Baekhyun wanted to savour it forever. Jongdae breathed into the kiss.

“What the fuck, you could have asked like a norm person” he gasped, pushing on Baekhyun’s hoodie, hand landing on his chest.

Baekhyun chuckled quietly, eyes squeezing tight, senses attention-high to make sure he wasn’t imagining things.

“it wouldn't be fun if I asked,” he murmured the thin skin on his lips brushing against Jongdae’s upper lip.

“You’re such a menace, I swear to god.” Jongdae snorted and pulled Baekhyun closer.

The second kiss they shared was hot and messy and chaotic. There were teeth and spit and curses falling out from one mouth to another and it was absolutely perfect.

They were kissing like they were fighting for each others' undivided attention. 

━━━━━━━ (May 13th, 2057) ━━━━━━━

The list of things Baekhyun knew about Kim Jongdae was growing so rapidly that at some point he stopped updating it. He remembered every point by heart anyway, there was no use dividing Jongdae into sections, when he as a whole was divine.

Baekhyun pulled the shirt over his head, the material sliding smoothly over his skin and over the plank on his chest as Jongdae’s hands worked on the zip of his jeans. Their skin was heated, burning with desire and sweaty with anticipation and pure intoxication.

Jongdae liked it this way - fast and uncoordinated, a little bit rough but in a loving way. Soft-spoken Jongdae with a sharp tongue and witty brain liked it with Baekhyun best - that’s what he confessed one night through erratic pants coming from his lips.

His cheeks were flushed and the blush went down - down his neck and down his chest, blood running hot under his skin and rushing south with the speed of light. Baekhyun pushed him on the bed, thanking gods for changing the sheets. Jongdae landed on the soft duvet and moaned meekly as Baekhyun fell on top of him. Their lips crashed once again - plenty of teeth and little sounds that made Baekhyun’s skin crawl.

Maybe it was one particularly loud moan, or maybe it was the heat of the moment, or maybe it was the fact that he shouldn’t mix his pills with his addiction to Jongdae, but Baekhyun’s hands slipped upwards, leaving the jutted-out hip bones and travelling across his rib cage. Jongdae’s heartbeat skyrocketed as his nails slipped past his nipples and scratched his collarbones.

Like spiderwebs, Baekhyun’s fingers spread over Jongdae’s neck. His pulse right under Baekhyun's fingertips, and- and that’s when Jongdae stopped breathing, the sound and air catching in his throat, his muscles stiffening.

Baekhyun could instantly tell something was wrong. He had already learned how Jongdae reacted to pleasure and how he acted when he got scared.

Right now, he was terrified.

“Oh, shit,” Baekhyun cursed, moving away quickly, hand sliding into Jongdae’s to ground him. “Shit, shit, shit, ‘Dae are you alright?”

Jongdae inhaled loudly and the oxygen wheezed in his lungs and it sounded as if there was glass inside him and it had just been broken into tiny pieces. His eyes were shut closed, eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted. He blush on his cheeks turned from pink to ghost-white. 

“I… I just need a minute…” he drawled through his clenched teeth (teeth that a moment ago were about to tear apart the skin on Baekhyun’s neck). “Just a moment,” he added heavily, fingers clenched around Baekhyun’s hand.

Baekhyun’s thumb gently stroked the smooth skin on his wrist. His heartbeat was faint but fast.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…” he mumbled, eyes shamefully skimming down.

Jongdae shook his head, opening one of his eyes.

“You couldn’t have possibly guessed that,” he sniggered but it sounded breathy and wet. Nothing like his usual taunting chuckles. 

He closed his eyes again and laid there motionless, his chest rising and falling, his breath growing more stable and calm with every passing minute. Baekhyun, not even for a second stopped stroking his hand, his own heart beating almost as fast as Jongdae’s.

“‘M real' sorry…” muttered Jongdae, squeezing Baekhyun’s hand, “I should have told you…”

“I should have asked-”

“Your hands were too… I just…” Jongdae looked at the ceiling, his gaze dull and lost, “I kind of freak out when I can’t breathe properly.” he confessed, “It feels like I’m drowning…” the muscles on his stomach flexed as if someone punched him. 

It felt like Baekhyun was the one who punched him. The nausea hitting hard making him curl on Jongdae’s side. A sudden wave of pain and guilt messing was with his head and suddenly there was only Jongdae and him and a wide wild river. He didn’t know where the vision came from, but it made his toes curl and his guts tangle into a tight bundle. He hid his nose in the crook of Jongdae’s neck and Jongdae scratched the back of his head as if Baekhyun was the one who had just broken down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jongdae,” he cried, not sure if it was his heart or his soul apologizing.

━━━━━━━ (September 27th, 2057) ━━━━━━━

“You look pretty,” Jongdae commented simply; tender, brown eyes fixed on Baekhyun. “So, very, pretty. It suits you,” he added, each word emphasized with a step that put him a bit closer to his boyfriend.

Baekhyun touched the skin beneath his swollen eye, it was bloodshot real but it looked _so real_ that he felt like crying.

“You really think so?” Baekhyun squinted at his reflection, looking for anything abnormal.

Jongdae wrapped his hands around Baekhyun’s waist. He sometimes did that when he knew that Baekhyun needed to feel more attached to reality. For a moment he watched the faint, pale-blue lines running beneath Baekhyun’s skin. Then, slowly, slow enough for Baekhyun to react, Jongdae brought his lips to his neck and pecked a tiny mole under his ear. Humming with satisfaction, Jongdae moved away, eyes fixed on the mole. If he looked for long enough, he could see the artificial veins pulsing beneath the skin.

“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Baekhyun suddenly.

“Afraid?” Jongdae’s eyebrows furrowed. He met Baekhyun’s eyes in the mirror.

“Yes, afraid, scared, creeped out, whatever,” Baekhyun listed quickly and looked away.

“Why would I be scared?” Jongdae spun Baekhyun in his arms, as if they were dancing, to look at him properly.

“Because…” Baekhyun whined, “What if something in me _pops -_ my eye or my chest- and you’ll end up hurt! You know that stuff like that happens!”

Jongdae clicked his tongue and with one swift gesture, he trapped Baekhyun’s soft cheeks between his hands. They were standing close enough to feel each others’ heartbeat.

“What if… I end up killing you?” Baekhyun breathed quietly, eyes dropping to look at Jongdae’s lips.

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Jongdae laughed nervously.

Huffing, Baekhyun pushed him away. His new eye flashed brightly, with newly gathered tears.

“If it? Is it really dramatic?” Baekhyun snapped. “I have this… I can’t help but… It’s like…” his breathing was shallow and rapid.

“Do you want to kill me?” Jongdae crossed his arms on his chest.

Baekhyun’s bottom lips wobbled.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, “Of course, not.”

Jongdae’s lips widened in a genuine, but timid smile. 

“That’s what I thought,” he tugged Baekhyun forward and put his hand over his heart. “I know you. You’re the most stubborn prick that I’ve ever met,” - Baekhyun pinched his left buttcheek - “So if you don’t want something to happen, I know that you will ensure to do everything to avoid that situation.”

Baekhyun’s forehead dropped on Jongdae’s shoulder tiredly, as if a great burden was lifted off his back.

“And if something happens?” he asked weakly, “By accident?”

Jongdae shrugged, “Then I will simply forgive you.” a wistful look in his eyes and a tiny smile on his lips, "There are things we can't control, but the actions we take after is what it matters." 

Fin. 

**Author's Note:**

> I do consider writing a sequel with Jongdae's POV. leave a kudos and comment if you'd like to see that :)


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